All I feel for you is
B L A N K
I can't even feel
the old animosities
crawling like worms
wriggling beneath skin.
Your voice is a stranger's
and I do not love you.
It was madness, all of it.
You are still tied and twisted
ungraceful and empty
struggling to find meaning
in a life you bought
at a too high price.
Now that my life's spiraled
into calm everyday caring
you want to disrupt it
hurt me
dig your claws in
because it is exactly
as I said it would be,
Cinderella,
different when the shoe
is on the other foot.
We can live without you.
It hurt's doesn't it,
watching those hands
you once held
hold another's?
It hurts to know you
will never know everyday
only every other weekend
of the story.
My answer is no.
It will always be so.